


Stolen Tomorrows

by Rammaga



Series: Stolen Tomorrows [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Short One Shot, or more like reverse age regression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29919834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rammaga/pseuds/Rammaga
Summary: Eane Djarin comes to terms with her grown-up son. Din tries his best.Part of a bigger au.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Din Djarin's mother
Series: Stolen Tomorrows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200224
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Stolen Tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! :-)  
> Thanks for stopping by. This is a short scene from a bigger fic I am currently working on. All you need to know at this point is the timeframe (some time before sparatists' attack on Aq Vetina) and that 8-year old Din has been turned into an adult for *reasons*.
> 
> It is all a bit of an experiment and a language exercise - it's hardly my first work in general, but first one in English XD So thanks for any feedback, if my English will be a significant obstacle in enjoying my story I'll be back after a few years of solid education :-D

"Mom" he says, his voice breaking. Her sthilouette was barely visible in kitchen's dim lightning.

"Din. Don't mind me, I just wanted to grab a drink". She moves past him, careful not brush his shoulder nor hold his solemn gaze for too long.

His hand on her arm stops her. She flinches, hyperaware of its size, how different it is from small hands she used to cradle in her own.

"Please" Din squeezes her arm. "You barely look at me anymore" his words sound strangled.

She lifts her eyes for a moment to meet his face, but quickly looks away.

This is not her son. Her son, her Din, is eight years old, going on nine. He is small and compact, easy to lift and cradle against her chest. His face, framed by dark curls, still holds baby fat.

He's not this man whose sad, hooded eyes stare down at her, whose jaw is covered with patchy stubble.

She wants to hug her son again so much.

"See?" he says and lets go of her shoulder. "I... miss you, mom".

"I miss you too" she blurts out before she can think about it.

He looks sticken. "Then why..."

"Din, please" she cuts him and tries to back away again but his hand on her shoulder stops her once more "I don't want to do it now".

She wants to decipher his face but fails miserably. She doesn't know him, she realises. While her eight year old son was like an open book to her, the forty three year old man standing before her is anything but. Is he desperate for her just as his younger counterpart would be? Or is he unwilling to leave things unsettled before he inevitably choses to leave?

"I know" he says "but we can't live like this any more. I, too, wish for things to be different. But we have to deal with... all this" he gestures to his body in general "sooner or later".

To her surprise, when she looks up, she sees wetness in his eyes. He clearly tries to school his features but is unable to hide the utter sadness that made its way to his face anymore. She closes her eyes in a vain attempt to stop tears from pouring freely down her own cheeks. It doesn't work.

She feels Din's hand touching tenderly her face and brushing some of the tears. She's acutely aware of its roughness, of every callous they're yet to decipher.

She can't help but lean into the touch.


End file.
